


It Isn't Goodbye

by starforged



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:12:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starforged/pseuds/starforged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's used to people disappearing by now but it doesn't make it any easier for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Isn't Goodbye

The others take captivity well. Or as well as Steve expects a group like them to take it; soldiers, spies, and criminals. 

But it’s Wanda he worries about when he gets her out of that jacket. She’s seen a lot, this kid, more than she should have. And then to be treated the way she was by not just Tony but Vision too, to be strapped into something that’s meant to make her feel even more dangerous…

He squeezes her shoulder, and she gives him a bland smile. 

She’s more quiet than usual over the next couple of days, but they all are. A somber blanket has been thrown over them as they quietly slip back into the real world. Scott’s the first to go after the breakout, numbers exchanged. It’s a lot quieter without him around. Steve expects Clint to go next, and he almost wants to ask if he’s planning on relocating his family now that he’s a fugitive. 

Bucky has already made his decision, and Sam plans on sticking by Steve’s side as they get ready to travel to Wakanda. He just assumes Wanda will go. That she’ll stay with them.

“Are you busy?”

Steve looks up from the hotel room desk and the letter he’s penning. Wanda flashes him that bland smile. The darkness of the prison still creeps around the edges of her face, the idea that she’s too dangerous to not be locked up, too fear to not be restrained. 

“No,” he says and pushes back. He gives her a tired smile in return. “What’s wrong?”

She leans back against a wall, arms crossed over her chest. The smile is more sardonic as her lips twist up. “Why must something be wrong for me to ask you if you were busy?”

“It’s more the look on your face.” Steve pauses. “And probably because I don’t trust the idea of peace in our lives.”

“You should work on that.” She’s quiet for a moment before nodding to herself. “I am not coming along.”

That surprises him. The shock must be visible on his face because hers twists up, as if she feels bad for even saying it. As if she’s trying to find the words to make it better too. 

“Clint thinks it might be better if I go with him, and I don’t think it is such a bad idea. I can help with the kids, I can–”

“I get it,” Steve interrupts her. He pulls himself out of the old desk chair, and the wood creaks beneath him. He tries to tell himself it’s because of his weight being gone and the chair shifting back and not because of the nearly splintering grip he had on the arms. Breaking a chair makes no sense to him. “All you’ve done is hide from the world, and coming with me and Sam - well, that’s just going to be more hiding for you. Not that going to Clint’s secret farm isn’t really being out in the open, you know.”

There’s a flash of teeth when she smiles now. “But it will be with people. I think that might be what I need, to remind myself that I am not just… a weapon.”

“You’re not.”

The smile drops from her face so fast, he almost wants to dive to catch it. None of this had ever been her choice, but she wore the guilt and responsibility of it well. 

“I know.” She nods and clasps her hands in front of her. “I just need to remind myself of that.”

They stand there awkwardly, watching each other. She’s right. And he is not going to force her to stay if this is what she wants. He thinks it is. So does she. But Steve feels like he is losing so much all at once, so he moves on instinct rather than on thought.

He reaches out for her, one hand gently cradling the back of her head as he pulls her closer. She could essentially neutralize him. She doesn’t. Instead, she buries her face against his chest, her arms around his waist. One hand stays at her head, fingers buried in dark hair, the other arm around her shoulders to cradle her close. 

“We are a team, Steve,” she murmurs against his shirt. “I’ll be back.”

“Look, I feel the need to give one of you a goodbye hug, and it’s not going to be Clint.”

“I think Clint would do it. He seems to like hugs. It must be a father thing.” If her voice sounds more watery than usual, Steve’s not going to bring it up to her.

He bows down without thinking about it, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah, but you’re the cuter one.”

There’s a blush on her face when she pulls back, but she gives an appropriately timed eye roll to make them both feel a little less awkward.


End file.
